


Will You Dare Now?

by RiverStyxGoddess



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Idiots in Love, more like blind idiots in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:55:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26063068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiverStyxGoddess/pseuds/RiverStyxGoddess
Summary: A small surprise for Tissaia backfires as Yennefer loses control of her infamous temper. Will this be the push they needed to voice the feelings they had both been trying to ignore?
Relationships: Tissaia de Vries/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 17
Kudos: 101





	Will You Dare Now?

**Author's Note:**

> It’s time I stopped pretending I have any control over this so here’s another fic. I thought I’d try some different things and I wonder if it payed off.  
> Every mistake is my own!
> 
> You are now boarding the Angst Express™

“You are doing it wrong.”

Yennefer startles and almost drops the shears she was holding tightly in her hands, accidentally cutting off a branch of the plant she is – was – tending to. She swears and turns towards the intruder.

“Well, that was helpful.” She bites.

“Do not blame me for your poor handling of those shears. Holding them so firmly will do neither you nor the mandrake any favors.” Tissaia sighs not unkindly as she steps closer to the younger mage, assessing the damage done to the poisonous sprout in her greenhouse. “She will live, although the same cannot be said for the other herbs in the pot, the soil is tainted. If you h--” 

“Will you ever stop fucking treating me as one of your stupid charges?” She regrets the words and their tone as soon as it leaves her mouth. It isn’t fair in the slightest. Their developing friendship, although still quite new, is a welcome change from the constant antagonism that scars their past. The balance betwixt them had always been fragile to say the least but this time there was something different, something that gave Yennefer hope although she could not grasp why that was. It is what inspired her to secretly come down to the other woman’s domain and tend to her beloved plants. Albeit not so secretly, apparently. 

The older mage starts at this but says nothing. Her gaze unreadable as they stare each other down. Long moments pass and still no words are spoken between them, the room seeming to shrink and spin around their static bodies. Yennefer feels cold. However, the chill that has now set in her spine is not new to her. She is used to this. To screwing things up. She shouldn’t be surprised, not really.

She drops the gardening tool and leaves in silence, not sparing a glance towards the other woman.

As she hastily makes her way to her quarters, she curses everything. Aretuza, with its never-ending hallways of cold damp stone. Herbology, for always being beyond her comprehension and quite frankly deeply uninteresting. Tissaia, for being ever so righteous and knowledgeable. Sodden, for having brought them together and somehow convincing Yennefer that it would be a grand idea to sojourn in the academy during her recovery. But mostly, she curses herself. Her own inability to just _be_. 

She can’t recall a time where she was just Yennefer. This perpetually angry, tempestuous, and resentful woman she became casts an everlasting shadow so large on her soul that freedom from its clutches seems almost unthinkable. Where was the sweet girl from the pig pen? Nothing but a distant and fading memory it appears. 

This inner turmoil lasts until late in the night, effectively depriving her of any restful sleep. 

The next few days provide her with equally no absolution. Triss’ care and kind words do nothing to ease her heavy conscience and the long hours spent in treatment for her wounds seem even more interminable than usual. Tissaia doesn’t come to check on her and Triss refrains from commenting on this sudden absence after weeks of the two sorceresses being a constant in each other’s presence. Yennefer takes to eating her meals alone in her room. She had done so ever since Tissaia again didn’t show up to share their regular late afternoon tea the day after - or ever since - the incident in the greenhouse. Her thoughts fester. All is lost. She might as well leave before anyone else is caught in the storm that is her raging temper. 

Her mind is set. She strides to her door and pulls forcibly on her doorknob to make to Triss’ room across the corridor, not intending to leave without thanking the woman for her help and maybe snatching some herbs for the pain. But she doesn’t make it that far. In front of her door stands Tissaia, stoic as ever but a distinct myriad of emotions just barely hidden behind the normally neutral façade.

“May I come in?” She inquires softly, eyes never leaving Yennefer’s. 

Unable to produce a sound at this unexpected visit, she simply stands aside and further opens the door, allowing the older woman entrance. As the door closes once again, they are left standing in the middle of Yennefer’s chambers, illuminated only by the dimming hearth fire and a small number of candles. The uncomfortable silence lingers, each woman daring the other to break it.

“I’m – “ 

“You’ve – “

They share a small nervous smile at this and neither one speaks again for a moment. The tension in the room seems to have dissipated slightly and Yennefer releases a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. Although they betray nothing, Tissaia’s eyes are clear and honest, fixed in a rare demonstration of openness. With the older woman now in front of her and offering dialogue, Yennefer finds herself increasingly desperate to salvage what she can of their previous understanding. Pride and self-satisfaction be damned. 

“I didn’t mean to attack your plant, you know.” She huffs, a hesitant smirk dancing on full lips. Tissaia ventures a step closer at this. “I only meant to – That is, I thought I’d get around to pruning your herbs. You… you mentioned you hadn’t had the time recently…” She trails off, suddenly embarrassed and taken aback by her own frankness. Shame colors her cheeks. Yennefer tears her gaze from the other woman’s, unwilling to allow her to read in her eyes what she herself is just now realizing about her own feelings towards the rectoress. 

“You are so much more to me than a former student, Yennefer.” Tissaia finally says, brushing over the younger mage’s apology, something akin to remorse staining her voice.

Once again it seems silence plays a larger part on their conversation than words do. Yennefer risks a glance towards the older woman and finds what she believes (hopes?) might be her own inner conflict mirrored in blue-green eyes. The heavy weight that had settled on her soul seeming to ease momentarily, as if offering a chance of reprieve, should she wish to take it. She draws in a shaky breath as she further narrows the distance between their bodies. Noticing this, Tissaia lowers her face to the ground before inhaling deeply and looking up to search Yennefer’s own. Yennefer wonders what she sees because suddenly the woman is steeling herself and tightening her expression.

“I understand this alters things.” She breathes out almost mechanically, no longer looking at the younger mage’s eyes but focusing somewhere beyond her shoulder, disconnecting herself from the words leaving her mouth at a controlled pace “I have tried, and failed it appears, to maintain a respectful distance. I am… aware of how unpleasant I have acted towards you in the past and how hateful you must feel because of it, but I had hoped to maintain a semblance of amity between us. In light of -” Yennefer’s fingers over her lips seem to break her reverie and the other woman immediately stops vocalizing what Yennefer thought would have been a very well-rehearsed speech.

“I knew I could be daft sometimes, but I believe you have once again proven that you shall ever surpass my own talents no matter the challenge, dear rectoress.” The seriousness of her expression betrays the teasing of her tone as Yennefer brings her hands up to slowly cup Tissaia’s baffled face. “I find myself indeed consumed with feelings, but I’d wager they do not reflect those you speak of.” She whispers while simultaneously tilting the other woman’s face towards hers, employing the same care in her handling as one would stroke the petals of a flower with. 

“I had not dared to assume…” Tissaia starts but trails off as her gleaming eyes dart to Yennefer’s lips, equal parts of hope and disbelief accentuating her features.

“Will you dare now?” Yennefer asks serious once more, thumbs skimming the woman’s sharp jaw. 

A beat passes and soft lips cover her own tentatively as small hands come to rest lightly on her shoulders before moving up to graze her neck. Timid kisses soon grow passionate and neither woman makes to let go, both electing to drown in this newfound closeness they had found in each other. Bursting with unrestrained emotion, they let themselves be carried away in the waves of tenderness, devotion and love that flowed freely now their mental barriers crumbled at their feet. Even as they broke apart to catch their breath, they remained pressed closely together and lips continued their careful exploration of exposed skin, leaving burning trails wherever they wandered. They knew the time to talk would come and both women silently prayed they were prepared for it, for whatever it was that blossomed between would call for a sort of gentleness and understanding they had thought themselves incapable of before the night’s events. But for now, no sound other than soft sighs and the occasional hummed low laugh was heard in the dim chambers, both choosing once again to let actions and lingering looks reign over the spoken word.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for sticking around until the end!!  
> When I started this I had no idea where I wanted to go but honestly I’m not even mad, it was a fun experiment! Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated ! :)


End file.
